by Steven Welch
His family owned an aquarium shop in San Francisco, and he had always dreamed of being one with the fish, swimming in seas of blue surrounded by vibrant green plastic grass and frolicking in the bubbles from aerated treasure chests. When as a young man he met Jules Valiance while on a reefer binge in Antigua his destiny was sealed. North McAllister had been born to dreams of the sea and destined to be Scaphandrier.
Now, as the two of them piloted their explosives laden Aqua Sleds through the darkening waters toward steaming black tubes that fed power to an emerald glass warship, they knew that this adventure would probably be their last.
They had only been happier once before, but that’s another story.
I’Masma stood on the bow of the Ship of Dreams and took a moment to appreciate the view. The twelve Razor Ships were at their side now, ready to join the return home. The suns were setting, and the sky was every shade of purple and orange, the first stars just beginning to twinkle to life. The hairy old man with wings swooped and soared in the beautiful sunset sky above the ship, pursued by the air jellies and just staying out of their tentacled reach.
It was lovely.
She was amused by the flying man and smiled at his sky dance. The crew stood behind her on deck. I’Masma had told them not to throw spears or fire arrows at the flying man. Surprises were rare on the Ship of Dreams, and she want ed to cherish this one as long as she could.
The Razor Ships were full of Earth’s detritus. The Old One was secure in his chamber. The volcano fed the ship the energy required to keep its cage closed. Soon, I’Masma would use the harnessed power of The Old One to open the portals and they would all ride The Shock Tide to their next harvest. This had been a strong and successful voyage, she thought, and watching this foolish old flying human die a humiliating death would be a delicious dessert.
“That good lookin’ bitch must be in charge,” thought Splatter.
Even from fifty meters away he was impressed with her. She was strangely beautiful and alien, cloaked in flowing fabrics that revealed her shimmering skin. She stood at a huge metal wheel at the bow of the ship and watched him. She had wonderful eyes, large and as emerald as the glowing glass and copper of the ship’s hull.
Was she smiling?
“I think she likes me,” he said. Splatter kept one hand on the base bar of the kite and the other grabbed the shotgun from the harness sleeve on his chest. The barrel went over the bar and slid into a half circle notch. It was difficult to guide the kite with one hand, but not impossible.
He dipped, and the kite went with him, dropping from the sky toward I’Masma like a bird of prey. Private Splatter’s stubby old finger rested on the trigger and his eye spotted her through the scope.
“How ‘bout a kiss,” he said.
The surrounding sea was now dark with the setting of the suns, but the star glass hull of the ship glowed a radiant jade that lit their way. Zuzu and McAllister split at the bow, one going to the port and the other jetting to the starboard of the ship.
Time was ticking away.
If Jules was correct, the ship was using power from the volcano to feed the ship, and if that was the case, those enormous cables would need to be severed.
Zuzu slowed her aqua-sled and came to a stop next to the starboard cable. The water around the massive pipe was warm, and at the hose itself the sea was practically boiling. She attached the explosive to the slick surface with a suction cup and activated the timer. On the port side, McAllister did the same thing, and then checked his watch. The two of them had one minute to get clear.
Zuzu and McAllister hit the throttle on their aqua-sleds and jetted away as quickly as possible.
They would be clear of the explosive charge’s detonation radius. Zuzu counted sixty in her head.
The explosives blew. She felt the sound of the blast in her bones, a throbbing low end pulse followed by a surge of water. Not bad, she thought.
Unfortunately, in their haste and anxiety, they hadn’t considered the force that might be released when the hoses were ruptured.
Those tubes, those hoses, conducted the power and heat of the largest volcano in the universe into the energy chambers of the Ship of Dreams. The explosive charges were just enough to create tiny fissures in the port and starboard pipes as planned. The force within erupted from those tiny fissures with a blast of tremendous heat and energy, completely severing the pipes and turning the ocean into a bubbling maelstrom of steam.
That wave of heat and boiling water flooded out toward Zuzu and McAllister far faster than their little aqua-sleds could manage.
Zuzu and McAllister rounded the bow of the ship next to each other and looked back at the same moment. They saw the blinding light as the hoses fell apart, and the shimmering white of the water as it turned into a bubbling wave of steam that roared toward them out of the deep.
They turned and gave each other a “thumbs up” gesture.
The wave of heat and churning water enveloped them. Zuzu felt a burning sensation, then numbness, but she held tight to the throttle and surfed along with the blast wave as best she could.
North McAllister lost control, though, and his ski sled became undone in the turbulence. He felt it rip away from his back and then he was tumbling in the boiling maelstrom. There was pain and then his vision began to fade.
The bubbles. Oh. He was a child again, he was a plastic frogman in a colorful aquarium surrounded by a wave of bubbles bursting from a treasure chest of gold.
What an adventure this had been.
I’Masma watched as the human went into a steep dive and swooped toward the deck. He was so charming and wonderful and unexpected. She loved the thought of him, but knew that his approach wasn’t without purpose. She sighed softly and her smile faded away. I’Masma raised her hand and in it was a glowing globe that began to burn brightly with arcing energy.
Private Splatter descended, howling at the top of his lungs. He came right for I’Masma as fast and as straight as an eagle.
She aimed the globe at him and a single bolt of energy lashed out. At that same moment, the old man’s finger tightened on the trigger.
The energy bolt was not the last thing the great Philipe Devilliers saw.
The Superboy of the Azure Coast, the ginger dream of teenage girls along the French Riviera, the legendary flying impossibility, enjoyed the sight of the strange alien woman as she spun violently in a cloud of pink mist, her flesh flying into the evening air.
Private Splatter had become his code name because Philipe was an extremely good shot.
He saw twin explosions of steam and energy erupt from either side of the warship.
“Good old Zuzu and McAllister,” was the last thing the old man ever said.
And then he saw a blinding light and somewhere in the infinite Private Splatter would fly on and on, forever, a hang gliding angel with a shotgun.
Elise St. Jacques and Jules Valiance saw the sacrifice of Les Scaphandriers through the view screen of their submarine.
They watched Private Splatter’s kamikaze charge at the deck and the twin explosions of steam to either side of the ship that billowed high into the night sky.
Elise couldn’t blink. She couldn’t move.
“Elise,” said Jules, “please hold on tightly.”
Jules adjusted the trim and throttled down. The Aquaboggin rocketed higher on plane. The autogyro blades popped out of their housings and the ship shot up into the sky with such force that Elise was forced down into her seat, her breath squeezed from her lungs, her pistol digging into her side like a nail.
The Aquaboggin flew towards the Ship of Dreams through a hot rain of water made boiling by the volcanic energy that surged from the severed power hoses.
Elise caught her breath. It was hard to see through the steam and mist on the forward viewing glass but she could make out shapes and patterns of brightness. There was the great flowing emerald ship, and it was rocking back and forth, the strange tapestry sails rippling, the ocean below he
r hull a seething froth of boiling water.
The volcanic mountain that framed the scene was a black hand against a cobalt night sky, and crimson liquid rock was pouring down her slopes.
Her Dad never spoke to Elise about Heaven and Hell, but she had heard stories from her friends and others, she had seen paintings and stories and films.
This was a scene from Hell, she thought, and they were flying into it. She had never been so scared.
The speed of the ship’s flight scattered the mist and water on the forward glass. Elise could see more clearly.
Something was moving in the sky around the ship, flying out from the slopes of the volcano.
Wires. Spears.
There were black and white figures on the slopes. Orcanum warriors, a thousand of them, some riding great sealephants and even enormous land crabs far bigger than the creature she had befriended back in Paris.
The Aquaboggin soared over the great ship, higher than the billowing sails and steel masts, and Elise could see the spears flying, thrown by warriors, lines attached. The spears bounced off of the hard shell of the star glass deck, but some struck and pierced the tapestry sails.
Elise remembered the time that she and her Dad had gone zip-lining at a little zoo near their home in Florida. Orcanum warriors began sliding from the slope of the Volcano of Ebon down the lines and toward the deck. They had created zip lines.
A loud bang. The Aquaboggin shuddered then rocked violently. A slick purple tentacle slapped the forward glass. The ship spun. Jules fought the controls. Through the side glass, Elise could see the dark mass of an air jelly. The thing had them, like a squid enveloping a fish.
“Of course, why not,” said Jules.
Elise felt her stomach drop as Jules sent the ship into a tight spiraling dive. The turbine engines were screaming.
He steadied her, evened her flight, but their speed was accelerating. Elise thought that her face was going to smear onto the back of her seat.
“You are a good and brave little idiot,” said Jules over the noise in the cabin.
She didn’t know what to say, because she was only a kid and she knew that she was about to die.
She could see the ship looming faster and faster through the squirming tentacles in the forward glass as they spun forward, then Jules wrenched the control wheel, and the ship angled sharply to the port side.
He shot the Aquaboggin on a line toward the starboard hull of the Ship of Dreams and turned at the last possible second. They were jetting like a rocket alongside the hull and they peeled the air jelly away as they went. The creature was smeared against the glowing green hull of the warship like, well, like jelly on toast.
Jules pulled the stick and throttle hard. The Aquaboggin screamed as it rocketed into the sky.
Elise smiled through her fear.
Jules Valiance really was epic.
The Ship of Dreams was no longer connected to her power supply, the unlimited energies of the volcano.
Jules had thought that perhaps by severing those power hoses he would disable the ship.
That wasn’t entirely accurate.
The Ship was powered by the energies in her engines and the natural electrical fields of the star glass that composed her hull. She could sail forever along the seas of Orcanum. But that wasn’t her purpose.
The power of the volcano wasn’t for the ship.
It was used to keep The Old One’s prison cell strong, and to keep the ancient thing enslaved.
The Old One was the force that could open up the portals between worlds.
It was the last of its kind in our universe, a God from another time, and The Old One’s enslaved energy was the only living thing in all of creation that had the power to warp reality.
The Old One’s prison chamber could stay strong for a short time without the volcanic energy, but certain measures needed to be in place. Back-up power would need to be engaged.
Those things did not happen.
When Zuzu and McAllister severed the power hoses, the energy that contained The Old One stopped instantly and forever.
And within that chamber of glass, a single ancient eye moved, blinked, and saw.
Within that slave cell, an ancient mind became aware.
Try-Ton stood on the back of his sealephant. He raised his spear and threw it with every muscle in his being. He had seen the first spears strike the deck and fall. He had noticed that the spears could hold in the tapestry if they struck it at a good angle and with force. Warriors had died, and were dying, and this battle would determine so much for the fate of his people.
His spear hit the tapestry at the top of the mast and it held tight. Try-Ton quickly tied the line off on the back of his saddle and threw a leather strap over the wire.
The angle of descent would be steep, but it would do. He sang a shrill song, a prayer, and began his slide to the ship.
The night air whipped him as he went. The water below was not bubbling as violently, the tubes having dropped into the depths and the energy drain from the ship becoming less with every moment, but there was still steam and the air was hot.
The main sail mast was coming fast. His spear was imbedded in the strange fabric near the very top. He would either find the strength to grab and hold there or he would shoot past into the sea.
This was his only chance.
He prayed for strength.
The howling scream of the Aquaboggin engine died without warning.
She had been a good ship, but she had never been built for this.
Her engine froze up under the strain just as Jules brought her around for a final strafing run at the deck of the ship.
His hope had been to fire all of his guns as he landed. Instead, Jules fought the controls as the ship began to drop out of the sky. She was not aerodynamic by any means. There were no wings, no mechanism to prevent her from just plummeting.
One chance.
The sail.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
DESTROYED
THE AQUABOGGIN HIT the Sails of Eternity like a missile and tore through them at an angle, ripping the fabric and then catching in a twist of the material that was held tight to the steel mast.
Elise didn’t have time to think. She was upside down, sideways, and then back again, spinning as the Aquaboggin careened to the glass deck of the ship. Emerald shards flew as the great old vessel skidded along, sparks and flames and pieces of the Aquaboggin exploding as she crashed. Orcanum warriors leaped out of the way and the sub tore along the deck with a deafening shriek.
Jules jammed a button and pulled a lever next to his seat, fighting the g-forces that were pushing him back. A loud bang and the capsule holding the pilot and co-pilot seats was ejected. Jules and Elise caught a flash of the rest of the Aquaboggin slamming along through a whirlwind of debris then they were shooting backwards along the deck. A parachute engaged but didn’t catch, the lines twisting, and the escape pod slammed into and through the thick jade glass of the main cabin.
Silence but for the ticking of equipment and the soft sound of shattered star glass falling. Elise opened her eyes. She was dizzy but alive. She looked at Jules and saw that he was already unbuckling.
He kicked the forward viewing glass away.
“No time for daydreams,” he said.
Elise smelled smoke. She unbuckled. Jules grabbed her and they jumped from the cabin pod just as flames erupted and enveloped it.
Elise fell into a swath of the sail tapestry.
The embroidery was glowing. The fabric was so soft.
Wait. I know this cloth.
She held a piece of the sail to her face.
This was the same fabric as my blanket.
My blanket.
The blanket my Dad gave me, the blanket that kept me alive for ten years while Paris died all around me.
How?
She remembered something else then, something important.
Her legs were wobbly, but she staggered forward, looking for Charlie.<
br />
The Aquaboggin had crashed along the deck for twenty meters or so, leaving bits and pieces of itself as it went. The torn, smoking, and burning hulk of their trusty submarine was at rest against the forward glass of the Ship of Dreams.
And there, on the deck half buried in a sheet of metal and torn cloth, was the dead crab from the storage freezer.
Elise knelt beside Charlie’s cold gray shell.
This really was goodbye, she thought.
Something slithered up next to her. The Octo-Thing, still carrying its little violin. The strange cephalopod squirmed quickly beneath a metal sheet panel from the Aquaboggin and hid.
The deck of the ship was a war zone.
The Orcanum warriors were flashing blades and swinging bludgeons.
Elise had loved pirate movies. Her Dad would sit with her in the theater, popcorn in hand, and they would cheer and applaud as old wooden galleons came alive with glorious battle. Now she stood on the deck of the ship as the warriors fought around her and she would have been thrilled never to see another pirate movie for the rest of her life. There was blood and pain, screams and voices begging for mercy that wouldn’t come. There was no stirring music as soundtrack, no reassuring moments of comedy. The warriors of Orcanum were taking back their world. There would be no prisoners, no kindness, and no surrender.
It was horrible.
“Take out your knife and your pistol, little one,” said Jules. Elise did as she was told and pulled her dive knife from its sheath at her thigh, the gun from her vest holster.
Her hands were shaking uncontrollably.
The old Scaphandrier had no weapon. His pistol and knife were lost in the wreckage of the Aquaboggin. Jules moved to a dead crewman of the Ship of Dreams that lay in a pool of blood with an Orcanum sword sticking out of his side.
Jules gripped the sword handle tightly and pulled.
The blade slid out of the corpse with a wet sound.
Jules walked toward the bow. Elise followed at his heel.